The Weekend Days
The Weekend Days
Three days ago was Friday. The workdays
ended slowly. The evening rushed
with parties and alcohol
and hanging with friends
as the air breathes the atmosphere
of life consuming people.
The atmosphere of living without
the lingering thoughts
of waking up early.
Two days ago was Saturday, the partying
was still going on. It started early
and ended late. It started with
a few drinks before
it was time to dress up for
an evening of dancing and playing.
Only the pleasure of passion
playing around with flesh,
people losing lovers, people
gaining lovers, couples arguing in the
rawness of the night.
Only pleasure consuming
clothes against flesh, consuming
flesh against flesh.
One day ago was Sunday, recovering
from the drunkenness of life and
the atmosphere of ecstasy.
One day ago it was Sunday and the
morning air breathes sigh of
relief that I am at home
recovering. I am at home
relaxing.
The winter air had left
early as the California coldness
was just dry air.
Rain was here several days
ago and it poured like the gods
were sobbing from their joy.
Today is Monday. Today is Monday with the
sun shining bright in the day. The trees
stands still without a breeze
passing by. A holiday in November
that those who have fought in
wars did not die in vain.
Those whom have fought in the
field of battle
were heroes, giants
among men.
Today is Monday. I am still here
at home with my feet and
hands still warm. They have
not yet touched the cold.
My eyes are still sleepy
from last night. My eyes
still slumber until late morning.
Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|